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Blood of a Pirate

by Eledhwen
First post August 1, 2005

Chapter One

"Take the steel out of the fire," said Will Turner, glancing over at the boy intently watching him. He placed the glowing metal on his anvil, and began to hammer it. "Beat it while it's hot," he continued, suiting actions to words. "Keep turning it over. When it gets too cool - as it turns dull orange, see? - put it back in the fire."

"I see."

Will smiled. "Good. Then you keep going, until you have your rough blade." He turned, and found a sword ready for completion. "Sharpen and polish it, set the blade into the hilt, and your sword is done."

"So the fire, then hammer," the lad said. "When can I be 'prenticed, Papa?"

"Not for a year or two," Will returned, taking off his apron and hanging it up. "First, you must finish your schooling. A blacksmith also has to manage his business, and know how much he is spending and how much he is earning. And it is heavy work, this. Do you think you will like it?"

"It looks better than arithmetic," his son said.

Rolling down his shirt sleeves, Will laughed. "It is better than arithmetic. Now, Billy, wash your hands. We had better be getting home, or supper will be cold and your mother will be angry."

They washed hands in a pail of water, and strolled home through the deepening twilight.

In the small, comfortable house the Turners called home, Elizabeth Turner was laying the table for supper with the help of her maid, housekeeper, cook and confidante Estrella. Three places were set, and Elizabeth put a small vase of colourful flowers in the centre of the table before standing back and surveying her little empire with satisfaction. All was ready. She took off her apron, patted her hair to ensure it looked its best, and hurried to the kitchen to see whether supper was imminent.

The door of the house opened to admit William Turner, father and son. Billy rushed to find his mother, full of the excitement of the evening; Will followed at a slightly more sedate pace to bestow a kiss on her waiting lips and to assure her that Billy had indeed been well-behaved and attentive.

Estrella came through into the dining room bearing a tray of food, and the Turners sat down to eat.

They were well into the meal, Billy telling a story about a boy at his school, when the knock on the door came.

"Were you expecting visitors?" asked Elizabeth, laying down her fork. "Hush for a moment, Billy."

"No." Will wiped his mouth and stood up. "I hope nothing is amiss." He left the room to answer the door. Elizabeth and Billy heard him unlock it and pull it open; there was a pause, before Will's voice came through to the dining room. "What are you doing here?"

"Billy, run upstairs," Elizabeth told her son.

He looked rebellious, but she raised her eyebrows at him meaningfully and he left the table and disappeared. Elizabeth rose, pulling at the cuffs of her dress, and waited for Will and the visitor to enter the room.

"Well, you had best come in," said Will from the hallway. Shortly afterwards the door closed. Her husband returned to the room, followed by a figure in sea-boots and a battered tricorn hat.

"Hello, Jack," said Elizabeth. "You'd better close the door."

Billy Turner was not his mother's son for nothing. He had obeyed her order to run upstairs to a point - he ran halfway and paused, just out of sight around the corner. Through the banisters he watched his father return to the dining room, accompanied by a man who seemed to clink as he walked, such was the weight of baubles in his hair and on his person. Billy waited until the door had closed behind the visitor, and then crept silently downstairs again on stockinged feet. He made his way to the door, skilfully avoiding the loose floorboard, and settled down with his eye to the knothole near the floor.

Inside the room, his mother had taken her seat again but his father was pacing the room. The visitor was standing by the window, offering Billy an excellent opportunity to examine him better.

Unlike most of his parents' acquaintances, this man did not seem to be what his grandfather would call "respectable". In between his salt-stained boots and hat he wore a full-skirted coat that was quite out of fashion, a faded waistcoat and a shirt that was stained and filthy. His breeches were torn, and held up by a sash that might once have been striped. Billy gaped in excited amazement at the sword and pistols the visitor carried.

"It's not safe, Jack!" his father was saying. "Not for you, and not for us."

"Lovely welcome, William," the stranger responded. "Been away a couple o' years …"

"Seven," put in Elizabeth. "Seven years, Jack. You can't disappear for that length of time and then just walk in and demand help."

"When have I ever done so before?" asked the man called Jack.

Billy's father stopped his pacing and faced his visitor. "Several times. You know that. And now you return, out of the blue, and ask for our help again?"

Jack shrugged. "Had no choice, mate."

"You always have a choice, Jack."

"Not this time, Will. Not this time." Jack held up his hand. "One, we got badly damaged in that storm t'other night. Lost the fore t'gallant - wind tore it clean off before we could take the sail in - and the mizzen mast was snapped in two. Lucky for us we were close by. We limped in and anchored nearby. Couldn't have made it elsewhere."

Billy saw his mother look down at her hands.

"Point two," Jack continued, "in said storm, several of me crew were hurt. Gibbs got his noggin bashed in. Marty broke his arm. And point three is that your bloody friend Norrington …"

Behind the door, Billy stifled a gasp at the language.

"Norrington's got his eye out for me. Soon as the Pearl tries to make her getaway, we'll have some speedy little brig after us."

"Can't you outrun it?" asked Elizabeth.

"Not with half me crew injured, I can't."

An awkward silence fell. The visitor folded his arms and bestowed a beseeching glance on both the Turners.

"C'mon, Will. Help an old friend, won't you?"

Elizabeth and Will exchanged glances. Outside the door, Billy adjusted his position, carefully and silently, trying to bring a leg that had gone dead back to life.

"I don't know, Jack," his mother began. "If it were just the two of us, perhaps, but there's Billy and Estrella to think of. They depend on us."

"Little Billy!" said Jack. "How is the lad?"

Billy, behind the door, was surprised. He had not realised that this flamboyant visitor might know him, and he resumed his listening with extra effort.

"Just beginning to visit me in the forge," Will said proudly.

"Good for him. Pickin' up a trade. Excellent form, young Will. Now, what of it? Can you help me?"

"Elizabeth …" Will said, hesitating.

Making up her mind, Elizabeth stood up. "You may stay the night, Jack. It's too late for you to be heading out again now. We'll decide in the morning whether we can help further."

The visitor put his palms together and made an odd little bow, at which Elizabeth shook her head.

"I'll go and find Estrella and ask her to make up a bed."

Billy jumped up and rushed upstairs to his room, where he grabbed a wooden soldier and began to act as if he had been playing quietly all the time. He heard his mother calling for Estrella and giving her instructions, before there was a quiet tap on his door.

"Billy?"

"Yes, mama?" He looked up from his soldier.

"We have a visitor. I think you should come downstairs and meet him, before you go to bed."

Trying to contain his excitement, Billy nodded and followed Elizabeth down to the dining room, where they found Will and the visitor examining the latest Turner rapier. Both men looked up as Elizabeth and Billy entered, the visitor lowering the sword from the defensive stance he had been holding it in.

"Billy," said his mother, "this is an … an old friend. Jack Sparrow. Jack, this is Billy."

"A mite bigger than last I saw him," said Jack Sparrow. He walked forward and held out a hand that was half-covered in some sort of leather patch. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service, Master Turner."

"William Turner," said Billy, taking the hand and shaking it. "Captain of what, sir?"

Will stepped up to his son. "Billy, all you need to know is that Mr Sparrow is a … is a sailor. And maybe you ought not to mention that he's visiting us. To people like your grandfather, or Commodore Norrington."

"Or anyone else," put in Elizabeth.

"Captain," said Jack Sparrow. "It's Captain Jack Sparrow, Will, you know that by now. And don't mollycoddle the lad. He's got a head on his shoulders, any landlubber can see that; not to mention Bootstrap's blood in his veins. You're teachin' him how to make a sword but you can't tell him the truth about a man?"

Looking from his mother to his father to Jack Sparrow, Billy wondered what was going on.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but the visitor got in there first.

"I'm captain of the fair ship the Black Pearl," Jack Sparrow said. "The loveliest vessel in the Caribbees." He paused for effect. "Like your grandfather, young Turner, I'm a pirate."

Chapter 2

Billy gaped. Before him, Jack Sparrow, self-avowed pirate, stood grinning. Elizabeth and Will were exchanging exasperated, annoyed glances.

"My grandfather was a pirate?" Billy said, eventually. He had managed to accept quickly that Jack Sparrow was a buccaneer - after all, he looked the part, what with his coat and weapons, hat and decorations. But Billy could not work out how his grandfather could have been a pirate. "How does a pirate get to be governor of Jamaica?"

The three adults looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"Oh, sweetheart!" said Elizabeth, coming to lay a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Not your grandfather here. He's my papa, you know that. He has never been a pirate." Her lips twitched. "Can you see him dressed like Captain Sparrow?"

Billy examined the visitor, and shook his head. "No."

"Jack's talking about my father," Will said, quietly. "You never knew him. He … he died, before you were born, Billy."

"Good man," put in Jack Sparrow.

"Your father was a pirate, Papa?" Billy confirmed, looking at Will.

Will nodded. "Yes. Yes, he was."

Eyes wide, Billy said, "Gosh." He turned to his mother. "Like in those stories you used to tell me at bedtime?"

Now Elizabeth was the subject of an accusing glare, from her husband. She coloured, and shrugged. "It was a long time ago, Will, when Billy was little. I didn't think he would remember."

"Dare say he doesn't remember meeting ol' Jack before," said Jack Sparrow, who had been observing proceedings with a slight smile. "You were but a mite of a thing, lad. Pulled my hair somethin' rotten."

Billy turned his attention back to the pirate in the room. "How old was I? Did I see your ship? Where is it now?"

"She," said Jack, emphasising the word with a raised finger, "is anchored close by. I don't recall you did see her. You were … I dunno, three?"

"Can I see her this time?" asked Billy. The thought of a real live pirate ship, with more real live pirates on it, was thrilling.

"Of course," said Jack Sparrow.

"Maybe," said Elizabeth, cautiously.

"Certainly not!" said Will.

"Why not?" Billy said.

"Enough questions," his mother cut in, turning her son and pushing him towards the door. "Now, remember what we said. That Jack is here is a big secret. You must not tell anyone."

"Especially bloo … the commodore," interrupted Jack, quickly. "That's very important, lad."

Billy nodded. He could see that the stern commodore, who would occasionally let Billy and his friends visit the fort and touch the marines' bayonets, would not like the fact that his parents were friends with a pirate captain.

"So off to bed now, darling," said Elizabeth. "Jack will still be here in the morning."

"Will I?" Jack asked.

"If you don't run away," Will said. "Good night, Billy."

"Night, Papa. G'night, Mama. Night, Captain Sparrow."

In his small room, Billy undressed slowly and tried to listen to the adults talking downstairs. But they were speaking too softly, and he gave up and climbed into bed. Estrella arrived to put his clothes away and tuck him up and blow out his candle.

"Did Mama tell you about the visitor?" Billy asked, sleepily.

Estrella paused by the door. "That she did, Master Billy. It's been a while since Capt'in Sparrow came to visit. Dare say you don't remember him."

"No." He yawned. "How long will he stay?"

"Oh, not long, I shouldn't imagine," said Estrella. "Now, sleep well, Master Billy."

He smiled at her, and snuggled down underneath the quilt that had once been his mother's.

That night Billy dreamed of pirates. He dreamed of the flamboyant Jack Sparrow on board a ship, waving a giant black and white flag. He dreamed of a man who looked a bit like his father, close to Jack Sparrow, in a big hat with a feather. Then he dreamed his mother was there too, dragging the man who looked like his father - and who suddenly was his father - away from Jack Sparrow.

He woke with a start, the covers kicked away, and lay still in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. The house was quiet, and still. Billy blinked a few times, before rearranging his covers and going back to a deep, dreamless sleep.

In the morning he was awoken by Estrella with a basin of warm water. Getting out of bed he remembered about the pirate in the house, and dressed quickly to hurry downstairs.

Jack Sparrow was sitting incongruously in the kitchen eating bread and honey, some of which had stuck to his neat little braided beard. Billy slid into a seat opposite him and set to his own breakfast.

"Mornin', lad," said Jack Sparrow, through a mouthful.

"Good morning, sir," Billy returned, spreading honey on a slice of Estrella's bread.

"Polite little thing, ain't you?" the pirate captain commented. Billy concentrated on his breakfast, all too aware of Jack Sparrow's intent scrutiny. A few minutes of silence, interrupted only by the chewing of bread, followed, during which Billy tried to get his courage up to ask a question. "So you've never wanted to go to sea?" asked Sparrow, eventually.

"No," said Billy. "I'm going to learn how to make swords, like Papa. You know he makes them for all the officers in the fort?"

"Unfortunately, I do," Sparrow said. "Makes 'em all too well, too. So you really want to be a blacksmith, eh?"

Billy considered the question. "Ye-es," he replied, eventually. "It's a good trade. And Papa's going to teach me to use a sword too, because he says you can't make them if you can't use them."

Sparrow nodded. "Wise words. Useful thing to know, how t' use a blade. Your father's one o' the best, you know that?"

"That's what Commodore Norrington says, too," Billy agreed.

The pirate raised his eyebrows.

"He does, does he? How is Norrington these days?"

"You know the commodore, sir?" Billy had abandoned his bread and honey for the moment.

Jack Sparrow grinned, showing off a mouthful of golden teeth.

"Aye, I know him. Or he knows me. Anyway, we know of each other. The bas … well, he tried to hang me once. Got as far as the rope round me neck, your grandpa and your ma lookin' on from the best seats in the house, when along comes your dad with a sword and a very nice hat, and rescues me! Had himself a little scrap with the executioner, we outran plenty of marines, and I escaped over the cliff edge."

Breakfast now entirely forgotten, Billy sat in wonderment.

"My father saved you from the commodore? But then what happened? Shouldn't he have been punished?"

"Commodore Norrington, persuaded by your grandfather, was good enough to let it pass - that one time," said Will, coming into the room. "Jack, have you been telling stories again?"

Looking innocent, Jack Sparrow shrugged. "Might 'ave been. Anyway, it's family history. The boy should hear it. Should have heard it years ago, if you'd been educatin' him properly."

"He's had an excellent education," Will said defensively. "He can read and write, add and subtract, and has a good grip on Latin."

"But can he talk his way out of a sticky situation, or fix a loose shroud, or tell you which way's larboard?" asked Sparrow. "'Course he can't. You've brought the lad up to be a landlubber, Will. Your father'd be disappointed."

"I doubt that very much," said Will. "I, after all, was originally due to be apprenticed to a bookbinder in Portsmouth. Not a very nautical occupation."

Sparrow frowned. "I didn't know that. Leastways, I don't recall Bill ever mentioning it."

"Because he knew you'd have talked him out of the idea, in all likelihood," Will pointed out. He looked across at Billy, who had resumed nibbling at his breakfast. "In any event, that time is past. We need to know what you want us to do. I fail to see how we can either mend the Black Pearl for you or heal your crew. Or stop Norrington from chasing you, should he be minded to do so." He paused. "Billy, take your bread outside."

"Leave the lad be, Will," said Sparrow. "He'll only listen at the window if you kick him out."

Billy flushed, and examined the knots in the tabletop to avoid meeting the pirate's gaze.

"Hmm," Will said. "Well, in any event, there's my dilemma. It's not that I - we - it's not that we're not happy to see you. I just can't see what we can do to help."

Sparrow nodded, and became suddenly businesslike. "Tools," he said. "The problem's this. Most of me crew come aboard with their own blades; usually rusting old things that've seen too many years and too much salt water. Now I don't know if we've had a run o' bad luck, or what - I don't think we got cursed again, though I may've missed it - but over the last months half of 'em have broken their swords. And they've taken to using what we have on board as weapons when we attack something. Long and the short of it is I don't reckon we've enough tools to finish the job quick enough, not when there's a mast to mend." He shrugged. "And we need new rope."

"I can't turn out that many blades for you as quickly as you'll need them," Will said.

"I'll pay."

"That's not the point," Will returned. Billy could see his father beginning to get exasperated. "I have a business, Jack. I've promised the fort another four rapiers and some spare bayonet blades by the end of the month."

"You must have some lying around that you've not sold?" said Sparrow. "My men aren't fussy. And as for the tools, I reckon a couple of good axes and some chisels will do us. My carpenter'll be eternally grateful."

"Doubtless."

Sparrow stood up, and came very close to Will; Billy, amused, watched his father retreat against the wall.

"I'll throw in all the broken ones for free," said the pirate. "They just need mending. Then you can resell them, for a profit, and everyone's happy."

"Except Norrington, when he doesn't get his blades and finds out I've been harbouring the Caribbean's most wanted man!" exclaimed Will.

Jack Sparrow threw down his hands, and moved away.

"All right then. Never mind. We'll manage. But how about this: we forget the blades, and the rope, and you and the lovely Lizzy and the lad come and pay a visit to the Pearl? Gibbs'd be pleased to see you. Despite his bashed head. And so would the old lady. She doesn't forget a debt, savvy?"

Will sighed, deeply. Billy waited to see what the answer would be. Finally, his father nodded.

"We'll come. It'll be a quick visit."

"Like lightening," Sparrow agreed. "Excellent! Sure Mrs Turner agrees?"

"Really," said Will, "she's keener than I am." He turned to Billy. "Run and find a coat, Billy. We're going to see Captain Sparrow's ship."

To Chapter 2

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